Ice and Roses
by achilles1371
Summary: A snowy day in a small town near Venice, a place where something wonderful, something strange happened to warm a frozen heart. Fem!ItalyxEngland.


Well it had been snowing for the past few days and Arthur Kirkland, snow or not, intended on staying inside. His books were more important to him than mildly frozen water and air. Arthur himself, although he was also known as England or the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland was in Venice at the time. To be precise it was just outside of Venice in a nice, quiet little town, his house just across from a small, tranquil park with a single, snow covered tree and bench. He sat in a chair, a crackling warm fire in front of him and a good book in his hands. His body was that of an eight year olds but in truth he was actually about a hundred or so years old, he never payed much attention to it. He had been told by his mother, Britannia, to find an outside influence and education and with the Renaissance occurring in Italy he could think of no better place. He might even get to meet or at least see Leonardo Da Vinci or Michelangelo. His almost radioactive green, glowing eyes slowly moved from side to side, light from the fireplace reflecting off the surface, absorbing the information in the book with rapt attention, occasionally lifting a finger to turn a page and at the same time, look out the window at the calm and snowy park. The snow gathered along the edges of the window sill outside and layered the ground heavily; deep footprints of where people had been walking earlier were almost filled again with the snow slowly drifting down to the ground. Arthur was about to return to his reading when he sighted something in the park. There, just under the tree, mostly covered in snow and shivering was a little girl, no bigger than he was. Arthur could not see her too well through the window but he felt sorry for her, laying there on top of the cold and seemingly unforgiving blanket of white. He looked between her and the book in his hands multiple times, debating to himself internally whether to investigate or not. Eventually, a mere thirty seconds later he returned to his book but could not focus on anything, not the words, nor the titles of the chapters so he shut the book and sat it down on the table beside him. He put on a little coat and a scarf that didn't belong to and was too big on him. He also grabbed a blanket from off the chair where he had been sitting and went to the door, cautiously reaching for the handle. He touched the metal and found it rather cold, as if the weather was goading Arthur to go back to the warmth of the fireplace. He winced and flung the door open, an icy chill already running up his spine as a small breath of snowy wind forced him to take a step back. Taking a tentative step forward Arthur looked around the square between him and the park. There was no one, not a single soul around save for a few birds hurrying back to their nests, most likely in someone's chimney. The British lad tried to move quickly but the cold started to sap his strength, of what little of it he had and as he reached the edge of the park Arthur took in a short breath before wading through the snow. Unfortunately he was not very big so the snow went up to about his waist. Slowly making his way over to the bench, lightly doused with snow he climbed onto it and from the new found vantage point he could finally get a good look at the poor girl that lay in front of him. She was about his size, maybe a little shorter but it was a little difficult judging from this height and the large amount of snow that covered her. The little girl that lay almost motionless had fiery red hair that had been pulled into a ponytail that just went past her shoulders. She was radiantly pretty for such a little girl and it made Arthur wonder what on earth someone like her would be doing laying half covered by snow under and tree without a soul around. On top of that she had a ridiculous curl that stuck out the side of her hair that looked rather familiar but Arthur just couldn't put his finger on it. He jumped down from the bench, landing a foot deep in the snow with a hearty crunch, wading his way over. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing slowly; puffs of steam came out of her mouth at regular intervals. Arthur held his hands to his face and breathed into them, they were already going red from the cold and he wondered if sitting in front of the fire for half an hour actually did anything. Carefully Arthur reached out with a single finger, inching it towards her shoulder. The moment it made contact he retracted it straight away as the girl in front of him opened her eyes slowly. He tried to give and assuring smile but ended up just making a confused grimace, slowly raising a bushy brow which made her giggle. "What's funny?" Arthur demanded in a grumpy tone that didn't quite suit him as the girl beamed, trying not to burst out laughing. "Y-your eyebrows…They look funny." The red head said without hesitating, though stuttering from the cold. "I would say the same for the curl in your hair!" the grumpy English boy retorted. The girl defensively reached for the curl but did not touch it. She looked extremely nervous and apprehensive, as if she did not trust him. But then again few did, and even then people don't often trust strangers. "W-what's your n-name?" stuttered the girl. Arthur blinked in surprise then rolled his eyes. "Of course introductions are in order, I am Arthur Kirkland, a pleasure to meet you on such a fine, snow covered day. And you are?" The girl thought about it for a moment but then nodded. "F-Feliciana Vargas." Vargas! So that's why she looked familiar! thought Arthur as he smiled. "Nice to meet you Feliciana, now would you like a blanket? You look cold." Feliciana hesitated but took the offered blanket from Arthur and wrapped herself in it. "Now, why are you out here? I thought you would be staying with Mr Austria?" he asked. Feliciana's eyes widened at the knowledge of the stranger before he and just stood there bumbling "H-how did you know t-that?" she asked. Arthur smiled softly, "I know your brother Feliciano, we're good friends. Now, you should come inside, I don't think you should be outside a second longer." He said bluntly, almost demanding. Arthur took her hand and Feliciana considered his 'offer'. "W-why?" she questioned. The British boy rolled his eyes and tugged at her wrist, it was so frustrating when he had to constantly explain things. "Because you are very cold and you appear to have been crying, please come inside and you can warm up, you don't have to tell me how you got here or why, you just have to get some heat." Arthur stated. He lifted her up and the pair slowly trudged their way through the snow back towards the house. The little boy ushered his guest to the living room, where the fire was still going brilliantly and his book had remained where it had been placed about five minutes ago. Escorting her over to a couch Arthur noticed a small amount of blood had dripped into the blanket that was wrapped around Feliciana and the moment she was laying calm he removed the blanket to find a cut on her arm, a small thorn and a few thistles sticking out. She winced as he looked at it carefully, almost trying to withdraw her arm from his touch. "Do be still girl, please, I am trying to help you." The English boy stated, running a few ideas through his head as he examined the injury. "Tripped and fell did we? I think might know that spot but right now I need you to stay perfectly still while I go and get some things. Feliciana nodded hesitantly and held her wrist as Arthur toddled off into a room out of view. In a few minutes he had returned with those few things: A very small brown glass bottle with some kind of liquid inside, bandages, a minor amount of clean wool, a mug of water and wet, wooden chopsticks. He sat them down in front of them couch and took hold of her wrist with hand again. "Now, try not to move, I promise this shan't hurt, it may sting but that is all." Taking the mug of water he slowly poured it over the cut, washing away any blood. Next he used the moist chopsticks and began carefully removing the thorn and thistles from the minor injury. He then took the wool and bottle, dabbing some of its contents on the wool and pressing it softly to the cut. Feliciana winced and gasped as he did so but she didn't move and inch as instructed and eventually, after a few minutes what, seemed like pain to her Arthur then bandaged it, taking a needle from a sewing kit nearby, securing the bandages. She smiled softly, holding her wrist daintily, smiling just a little. For a child, England was rather smart, smarter than your average scholar and then some. But with this intelligence came a rather snide attitude and lack of a general social life, he had virtually no friends aside from the seemingly invisible assortment of magical creatures and the "Flying Mint Bunny" that only he could see that spent most of its time perched atop his head. So the sudden assistance of this girl was rather unexpected to Arthur, it confused him somewhat shocking as to why he would help her. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind for now and stood up from his seat to help Feliciana. He took her hand gingerly and she seemed to snap from her trance and she turned to face him. "Th-thank you, wh-what was your name again?" she asked. Arthur rolled his eyes with impatience "Arthur…" he said bluntly, almost grumbling as he looked out the window briefly. "Well, the snow won't be stopping anytime soon but Giovanni will be back soon and I'll send him to Mr Austria's house with a letter sending for a carriage for you." "Wh-who is Giovanni?" she asked. "Oh, he's my current guardian here in Italy, now I don't know what happened at his house that caused you to run away but you can't stay here, Giovanni has enough trouble looking after me, let alone you; However, I shall visit you in a few days, just to make sure you are okay. Okay?" She nodded almost glumly, still hopeful that he would hold his promise. Eventually Feliciana had left and Giovanni had retired to his bed for the day. He was a teenager, or at least he was close to one and he seemed to be happy with helping Arthur and often said he could not wait to have his own kids one day, all of which Arthur completely ignored. England sat back down after eating in the armchair that he read in and picked up the book he had neglected since early that morning. 


End file.
